


I'll Lift You Up

by tahitidreams



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: F/M, arthur morgan - Freeform, character history, red dead redemption - Freeform, red dead redemption 2 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-27 17:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17165825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tahitidreams/pseuds/tahitidreams
Summary: Arthur Morgan is a scrappy young kid. After losing his father, he is having a difficult time surviving out on the streets. Before he is picked up by Dutch van der Linde, he crosses paths with a young girl who lives on a ranch. He strikes up an unlikely friendship with her as she does something he'd never expect anyone to do for him.





	1. 1877

After just having fed her new horse, Rusty, Marielle began her walk back up the hill to her house. The candles were aglow in the windows and she could see her Pa reading a book in his chair at the table. The summer breeze rustled the leaves on the trees and the sound reminded her of her family trip to the ocean in the spring. On the other side of the house, the sun had almost set, casting dark shadows along the path towards the porch. The creak of a step on the porch drew Marielle’s attention to the entrance of her home, and a shadow darted up there between the grain barrel and a chair.

She stopped almost at once to try to make out the shape hidden on the porch. It didn’t look to be very big, maybe a raccoon (a big one) or some other animal. Gingerly, Marielle made her way to the base of the steps and leaned forward to peer around the barrel at this…creature. She was surprised to see a pair of very human, pale blue eyes glimmering in the light of the candles from the window.

This was no animal - this was a boy, no more than 14 years old. When her eyes adjusted to the light, she could see him better. He was crouched down in some torn clothing. He must have heard Marielle approach and his head turned to her and some long hair fell into his face, eyes wide.

“What are you doing?” was all Marielle could think to say. The boy opened his mouth, and hesitated.

“I, uh-“ he began. She saw him stick a knife back into his pocket. “I wasn’t doin’ nothin’.”

“If you’re not doin’ nothin’, why are you here?” His eyes lowered to the ground.

“I don’t got a place to go to,” he answered quietly, almost shameful. Marielle stepped up onto the porch and stood in front of him. She held out her hand to him.

“Stand up”, she said. He looked up to see her hand extended and lightly placed his hand in hers. Marielle pulled him up. In the light, she could see the dirt covering his skin. His shirt had shredded along the waist and on the sleeves, and pieces hung in strands. One of the knees in his pants was torn open and he was wearing mud-caked shoes that looked a size too small. His hand and the length of his arm she could see were boney, undernourished, and covered in scabs. She knew he had not seen much good as of late.

Behind where the boy was standing, Marielle saw her father rise from his chair. She panicked and pulled the boys' hand and led him down the stairs of the porch.

“Get down”, she uttered. He obeyed, crouching down again in front of the porch and out of view. The door to the house swung open.

“Mari, you comin’ in? Supper’s on the table”, Marielle’s father called, eyes searching for the girl in the growing darkness.

“I am, Pa. I got distracted.” She turned her attention back to the boy for a moment.

“Have you had anything to eat?” The boy shook his head.

“Not in a few days. Just scraps.”

“Stay right here.” The boy wasn’t sure why he didn’t leave right there, but the hope of a meal in his belly was more enticing than what he had really been there to do.

After about 20 minutes, the boy turned around to see the door on the porch open. Marielle came down the steps onto the grass where he sat and got down on the ground beside him. She handed him a bowl and a spoon. He looked at her in disbelief.

“This is for you.” He took the stew from her and took a bite, savoring the hearty, hot food on his tongue. “I saved you half of my plate, but I managed to scoop some extra from the pot when ma and pa weren’t lookin’.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. He was so hungry, he began to shovel the food into his mouth. Marielle watched him, somewhat in pity. When he was done, he had gravy dribbling down his chin and it made Marielle giggle. He laughed with her, but he was not aware of what made her laugh at the time. She reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a handkerchief. She traded with him the empty bowl for the cloth and motioned to her mouth. He took the cloth and wiped his face off.

“That’s better,” Marielle commented, smiling. “What’s your name?”“It’s - it’s Arthur. Arthur Morgan.” He brushed his hair back out of his face. It fell forward again when he looked toward the ground.

“Nice to meet you Arthur. I’m Marielle.” She paused. “So you don’t got a place to stay?”

“No.”

“Is that why you’re all dirty?” Marielle regretted the words as soon as they left her lips and cringed. Of course he was dirty if he didn’t have anywhere to live.

“Yeah, I s’pose.” He kept his eyes to the ground.

“What - what were you really doing here, Arthur?” There was a long silence. Arthur felt it was at least his duty to tell her since she so graciously had fed him only minutes ago.

“I ain’t gonna lie,” he took a pause again. “I got nothin’. I trick people and I steal from them so I have a means of livin’. I was gonna do the same here.” He motioned to the house.

“So I just fed a thief?” He chuckled. He was getting a little more comfortable now.

“It was very kind, what you did for me.” Arthur brought his eyes to meet hers. “I don’t deserve it. I’ve been runnin’ from town to town, doin’ no good to good folk. But I got no other way to survive.”

“Well, for the record, you didn’t rob my family so I got nothin’ against you.” Marielle wasn’t sure why she decided to be so helpful to a stranger, but there was something so vulnerable about him yet that she just felt like that was what she needed to do. Arthur scratched the side of his face and sighed.

“Well I don’t want to impose on you further, but I appreciate you doin’ what you did. I’ll be on my way.” Arthur stood. Marielle rose simultaneously. She grabbed his arm and stopped him from turning to go.

“Wait here for a moment.” Marielle hopped back up the steps and ducked into the house. She was back within 10 seconds and had a small sack tied up in her hands.

“Take this with you.” He gave her a puzzling look. “It’s food. Save it for the mornin’.” Arthur took it and looked inside the sack. Marielle packed a couple of bread rolls and a piece of dried venison inside.

“Thank you…” he trailed off. He was taken aback a second time by her thoughtfulness.

“Why don’t you come back tomorrow. I’ll see that you get some supper again.”

Arthur nodded timidly. He suddenly did not want to take advantage of this girl and her family.

—————————————————————————————————————

Bringing supper for Arthur became a nightly occurrence for Marielle in the months to come. Arthur showed up the first few nights late. After their first encounter, he was sure she wasn’t joking about giving him supper again. At the same time he felt like he shouldn’t be expected to get fed by a stranger that he almost robbed. He was so enamored by the kindness that she showed him that after the first week he started arriving to the house right at sundown, when supper was being served inside.

Like clockwork, Marielle would venture out to the spot in front of the porch, out of view from the windows of the house. She carried with her the bowl of her leftover stew from supper. She noticed as weeks passed that Arthur would not eat quite as desperately as in the beginning. His face was looking fuller and his limbs less boney - definitely a change from the gaunt boy that she encountered that first night.

Marielle would always try to talk to Arthur. She wouldn’t say they were friends, but she was at least trying to be friendly. They would talk about whatever came to mind: the weather, Arthur’s plans, Marielle’s life and her horse, and their likes and dislikes. One night Marielle got bold and asked Arthur how he got into the situation he was in. Arthur stopped eating his food abruptly and looked away from her.

Marielle told him it was okay if he didn’t want to talk about it. She understood that he would tell her if he wanted to so she didn’t touch the subject further. About a week after she asked, he began to tell her the story out of nowhere. She interrupted and asked him what he was talking about at first before realizing he was answering her question from the week before.

Arthur had grown up with a criminal father and a loving mother who had passed away far too soon. He had not been treated right by his father but together they would evade the law after all of his father’s escapades. He had no other family, no one else to turn to to escape the beatings, the abuse. After one job his father had done, Arthur was sent ahead to hide somewhere but his father was caught by the lawmen. Arthur watched him get carted away in the prisoners wagon, and later saw his father hanged for his crimes.

He said he was happy to see his father go, terrible as that sounds. Arthur didn’t want to turn out like his father. He only turned to robbing as he was just a child. There was no other way for a kid to survive. Marielle wanted to ask him where he went when he left her house, but she figured it better that she not know.

Arthur’s soul softened with each night he spent with Marielle outside her home. No one had cared for him so since his mother passed away. This young girl had fed him without knowing an ounce of information about him, and continued to do so even after she learned about his life. Knowing that at least one person in this world was not out to get him was enough for him. Marielle’s compassion was as nourishing as the food she brought.

One night they went together down the hill into the barn. Marielle showed him her horse and gave him a brush. They stood on either side of the horse and talked while they brushed. Arthur made her laugh with some of the stories he told of the many times he was caught by the people he robbed, like when he hopped a fence one dark night, in pursuit by a rancher, and slipped into a trough of pig slop. Arthur liked the way Marielle’s eyes sparkled when she smiled. She had long brown curls that encapsulated her shoulders when she threw her head forward to laugh. He watched her fit of laughter and she returned her gaze to him, to which he suddenly felt flustered and looked at his brush on the horse, trying to hide a grin.

Before he left that night, Marielle reached into the pocket of her dress and handed him five dollars. He looked up at her quizzically. She urged him to take it, she had saved up some money and asked him to use it to buy some new clothes. The winter season was upon them and the rags that currently clothed his body would not be enough to keep him warm and safe. Arthur reached for the money in her hand and upon obtaining it, pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her tightly. Marielle returned his very thankful embrace. Arthur whispered a thank you to her before he pulled away and disappeared into the woods.

Arthur came back the following day in some new jeans and a thick, warm shirt. He had to steal the boots he wore because the money wasn’t enough for all three articles, but he told Marielle it was more than enough when she asked. The gesture was so nice that he didn’t want her to think her gift was insufficient. Arthur felt almost human again.

A few more weeks passed and Marielle left the house one night, as she had been doing, to find that Arthur was not there. Perhaps he’s running late, she thought. She waited a few minutes on the porch, and walked to the barn, figuring he would likely look there for her if he showed up. She milled around the horse stalls for nearly an hour before giving up and returning to her home. She poured the stew she brought for Arthur in the pig trough on her way up the hill. Marielle spent every night that week and the next looking for Arthur out the window of her room. She hoped nothing bad had happened to him.


	2. 1893

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is tracking down a bounty for some extra money in his pocket, years after becoming part of the Van Der Linde gang. He meets someone from his past who he never expected to see again, and this time he gets to provide the help.

Arthur tore across the path on his horse. Just north of Van Horn, he stopped to let the horse rest and to survey the area. He had been traveling east for several days after picking up a bounty poster back in Tumbleweed. The wanted man, Carl Kilgore, had been leading Arthur on a wild goose chase across five different states. This was more work than Arthur would ever be willing to put into one bounty, but he was too invested now and he wasn’t going to kiss that money goodbye. Just as Arthur had arrived in the last known location of the suspect, asking around town only gave him information that the man had moved on, continuing to go east.

So now, Arthur had last been told that the man was believed to have set up camp in the northeast. With nowhere else to go but ocean, he figured this would finally be his opportunity to get his target. Arthur so badly wanted to put a bullet between Mr. Kilgore’s eyes for all the running around he did, but the lawman in Tumbleweed wanted him back alive. He was wanted for murder, robbery, and kidnapping, and one of the victims had been the lawman’s daughter. Arthur supposed that the lawman just wanted to be able to interrogate Mr. Kilgore before hanging him himself.

Arthur dismounted, grabbing the reins of his horse, and led her into a clearing to graze. He retrieved a pistol and the lasso from his satchel for the job. Looking up to the sky, he scanned for any trace of smoke from a fire that could lead him to the camp of Mr. Kilgore.  
There it was. Just to the northwest, a plume of smoke showed just above the tree line. Arthur set off on foot, crouching down as he got closer to the red glow of the campfire so he could sneak up without warning.

Getting up closer, he surveyed the campsite. There was a large box tent erected with a supply wagon adjacent. Many of the boxes and barrels from the wagon had been haphazardly strewn about the area, as if knocked over in a struggle. It didn’t appear to Arthur that there would be any accomplices with this man. He had been told that the target would be on his own. And then, Mr. Kilgore slipped out of the tent’s entrance, laying down next to the fire. He covered his eyes with the brim of his hat to sleep.

“Ain’t gonna get your beauty rest today,” Arthur grumbled to himself. He pulled the lasso off his belt and approached. “Carl Kilgore!”

The man lifted his hat up and looked in the direction of the caller. Arthur took a few steps closer and Carl stumbled to his feet. He drew his pistol, and Arthur did the same.

“Whatchu want, boy,” the man snarled. “You’re in dangerous territory.”

“You couldn’t’a guessed? Got a pretty good price on your head.” Arthur kept his eyes locked on the bounty.

“You’d be smart to move along,” Carl continued. “This hasn’t ended very…pretty…for the last bounty hunters that came for me.” He adjusted his grip on the handle of the pistol.

“Just come with me, fool. We’ll get this over with and we’ll both live.” Arthur paused for a moment. “Not to mention, I’ll have an extra three hundred dollars in my pocket. Seems like a win-win.”

Carl’s face molded into a befuddled expression. “That plan only works out for one of us, and it ain’t me. Just go before I decide to put a bullet in you.”

Before Arthur could answer, he heard a shout for help. It sounded like a woman, and it seemed to be coming from the vicinity. Carl Kilgore swung around and looked at the box tent, cursing under his breath. He must have some poor girl held captive in there. Without hesitation, Arthur fired his gun at Carl, who immediately dropped to the ground. At this point he thought the bounty reward did not matter, if he could save the individual in the tent.

A louder, more terrified scream came from inside the tent. Arthur kept his gun at the ready and approached the door flap. He peered inside to see a young lady, hands tied behind her back to the rear support post, shivering and whimpering. She was looking right at the entrance, and upon seeing Arthur in the crack between the canvas flaps she threw her body to the ground in what looked like both fear and exhaustion. Her arms arched up behind her and her thick, ratty brown hair fell over her shoulders and covered her face. Her thin sheet dress was covered in dirt, and one of the sleeves sagged down her shoulder. Between thin, sharp breaths and whimpers, she managed to speak up.

“P-please, sir, help me. Don’t hurt me.”

Arthur didn’t say anything. He lifted the flap over his head and walked swiftly to the woman. Pulling out his knife, he reached over her and held her hands still to cut the rope around them safely. Her arms fell, her whole body shuddering, and landed on Arthur’s feet. He reached down and lightly stroked the top of her shoulder. The woman was still crying ever so lightly.

“You’re okay now, Miss,” Arthur cooed. He tried to sound soothing but his gruff voice sent another shiver through the woman. “You able to get up?”

“Is he….g-gone?” She didn’t move an inch, staying still right at Arthur’s feet.

“I shot him,” Arthur answered. “He won’t bother you no more. You should come with me though. I’ll get you cleaned up.” He leaned over and stretched his hand out so she could hopefully see if under that mop of hair.

She finally moved and brushed her hair away from her eyes, looking up at Arthur. His blue eyes sparked a feeling of comfort and familiarity within her, and she slowly placed her hand in his. Arthur hoisted her up onto her feet. She was a bit wobbly. However long she was tied up had exhausted her limbs. Arthur supported her, walking out of the tent and whistling for his horse.

Once the horse trotted close enough to them, Arthur gave the woman a boost onto the animal’s rump and he took his place on the saddle. He clicked his tongue and started out at a light pace. He wasn’t sure exactly what kind of shape the woman was in and he didn’t want the ride to rattle her any more.

“Where are we goin’,” the woman asked softly.

“We’re goin’ down to Saint Denis,” Arthur replied. “You can have yourself a bath and a meal, and I can get you some new clothes.” Her arms tightened their grip around his torso, and she rested her head below his shoulder for support.

“Thank you.”

“Did that man do anything to you? You need to see a doctor at all?” Arthur waited for a response. “You don’t gotta tell me what he did, but I’d like to know that you’re okay.”

“I-I’m okay,” she began. “I’m just…I’ve been so frightened. I haven’t slept. I’m exhausted. He didn’t do nothin’ other than keep me tied up there, but I was afraid that was gonna change.” Arthur winced at the thought of the fate this poor girl might have had.

“Miss, can I ask your name?”

“Marielle. Marielle Crawford.” Arthur’s breath hitched. He hadn’t heard of anyone with that first name since he was 14 years old. But this young lady was so far from home, it couldn’t possibly be the same girl from his past. In addition, he had never learned her surname back then. However, if this was that same girl, he could finally give her proper thanks for everything she did for him when they were kids.

“Arthur. Arthur Morgan.” He had barely finished saying his last name when Marielle gasped. He felt some pressure come off of his back as she lifted her head up to look harder at Arthur.

“Arthur?” She said breathlessly. “It can’t be.” Arthur slowed the horse to a stop.

“Marielle…” was all Arthur could utter. She remembered his name after all these years, confirming his suspicion. But here she was, looking much like he did when their paths crossed the first time. He never expected to see her again, nonetheless in this state. Arthur hopped off his horse and locked eyes with Marielle, lifting her off and to the ground. “I never thought I’d see you again,” Arthur spoke first. Their gazes at each other were full of both surprise and disbelief.

“I thought you - I thought you had died.” Marielle whispered the last word as her emotion began to take over. “You never came back.”

“You saved my life,” Arthur responded. “I wanted to come back, believe me. I owe you so much. I got a family now, and it took me far away.” He avoided using the word ‘gang’, as he didn’t want her to think less of him.

“I’m glad you’re alive, Arthur,” Marielle said. “You were in a bad way when you showed up at my house. I just felt compelled to help you.” Arthur laid his hands on her arms and brought her close, hugging her. When he pulled away, he looked at her with softer eyes, and her lips curled ever so slightly into a smile.

“Let’s get goin’,” he said, helping her back onto the horse and starting down the road again.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to know your thoughts! I am thinking about making this into a few parts, nothing too long. I have an idea of where this is going to go but I apologize if it doesn't happen quickly, as I haven't written anything like this in quite some time. Future installments will progress into the future of Arthur's timeline and may have some NSFW elements and spoilers but I will make sure to tag everything :)


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